Has the Rain Stopped?
by ChocolateBall1
Summary: AU. Where was he? Was he hurt? Gosh dang him, for leaving the house without an umbrella! England/Reader. Meant to be a follow-up to And Tears Fell Down From the Sky.


**A few notes before we begin. **Full author's note at the end.

**This is meant to be a follow-up to my previous story, _And Tears Fell Down From the Sky._ However, it can be read by itself.**

**Alternate Universe, in which you are a country under England's care.** If you want to understand it better, you might want to read my previous one-shot then.

**One-Shot**. Not much much else to say.

Read & Review, Enjoy~!

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><p><strong>Has the Rain Stopped?<strong>

Rain pounded down on you as you ran through the streets. You were carrying an umbrella in your hand, but you didn't bother to open it. You had to find him, and quickly. What the colour of the umbrella was or if it was even big enough for you, you didn't know. When the storm had started you grabbed the first one you saw and ran out the door. It probably wouldn't do you any good to open it anyway; the wind was blowing hard and you would lose it in a second.

No one was outside as you dashed through the empty streets of London. You considered this to be both a good and bad thing; for one, you wouldn't crash into anyone accidentally and have to waste your time apologizing to whoever you trampled down. On the other hand, it would be nice to ask if anyone had seen a certain green-eyed, blonde man with giant eyebrows. You had to suppress a giggle at the thought of England's huge eyebrows. You needed to find him, as the gloomy sky was growing darker by the second and the rain would make anyone blind. What if he got into an accident on the way home? You would never forgive yourself.

Not like you cared for the cranky Brit, you thought to yourself. He was boorish and coarse, nothing near the gentleman he claimed to be. You still haven't forgiven him for taking you away from China's house. It was a touchy subject between the two of you and you tended to drop subtle hints about it every now and then, which frustrated England to no end. If the either of you were asked to describe your relationship, the answer would certainly be far from friends. England would probably say you were a foolish wrench, and in return you would call him a daft moron.

No, the reason you were looking for England was because of the fight you two had earlier. He was greatly upset about the way you made his tea for the fourth time this week. Your left hand suddenly ached with pain again and you winced. It was an all-too familiar remind of what happened today.

"Are you really so simple?" he had cried, slamming his teacup down. "How many times must I remind you how to make tea? I would've thought you knew how, considering you were raised by China! _Obviously_ you use soft water, and then you boil it to sixty degrees!" England ranted on about the apparently "correct" way to make tea as a storm brewed inside you. As he continued on to insult you, not holding back on any foul language, you could feel a tornado whirling inside you as you glared at him violently. And then you snapped.

"Well, I don't see you making the tea!" The delicate teapot banged down in front of England and smashed into pieces, splashing the tea you made all over the table and floor. Sharp pieces dug into your palm and your hand started to bleed. You didn't care though; blind fury had washed over you.

"I don't see you doing anything around here! All you do is order me around, letting me do all the dirty work while you sit there like the lazy bum you are, enjoying me struggle to do the tasks you set upon me!" you screamed. "At least _try_ and act like a considerate human being, won't you, instead of being such an arse! Think for once! No wonder they all left you, every single one of them!" You didn't know what you were saying now. Power emotions took over you and words tumbled out of your mouth. "Hong Kong, Canada, America! _Every single one!_ All because you're a self-centered git!"

The whole world seemed to have settled into silence. You were breathing heavily now, but your senses came back and you felt twinges of pain in your left palm from the broken teapot. The fog that had covered your eyes slowly faded away and you saw blood seeping from your hand, making small ruby rivers and swirling away into the wasted tea. Then you looked up and froze when you saw England's face.

His face was blank and expressionless, but his face had faded away from all colours and his skin was now ghostly white. You noticed that, although it was quite warm and cozy inside the house, England was slightly trembling, little shivers going through his body. You took a glance at the English nation's emerald-green eyes and you were taken aback on how much emotion was contained there. There were ones you could name, such as hurt, anger, and sadness, but there were so many more, so many that didn't have names because you couldn't describe them. It occurred to you that this was the first time you ever saw England display such feelings. Usually his eyes were hard and cold, like the jewel his eyes were the colour of. But that dense surface had disappeared and everything he was thinking was vulnerable to the world.

You gave a start when you saw tears forming in England's eyes and he blinked hard and whipped his head away so you wouldn't see. He got up from the table and headed for the front door.

"England, I'm…" You tried to follow him and apologize, but he had already gone out the door and you heard rapid footsteps beating down the driveway. Know you couldn't catch up with him you headed back to the table and started cleaning up the mess, disposing of the demolished teapot and wiping away the wasted tea. When that was done you cleaned your hands and bandaged it. You proceeded to your room and tried to read a book you had taken from England's library, but you couldn't concentrate. Every three seconds you would glance out the window to see if England had come back, but he never appeared.

After a few hours you realized it was starting to storm. Noticing how dark it was and how heavy the rain seemed to be, you remembered England never came back after the fight. He had left the house with only the clothes he had on, which were none the suitable for this type of weather. You cursed the Brit for his stupidity, but at the same time you were concerned. After a few moments of debating you decided to chase after England, feeling that it would be your fault if he got hurt.

So now here you were, running in the bleak streets of a city you weren't familiar with, becoming more desperate by the second to find the British nation. You had been searching for an hour now and no luck had come upon you. Nighttime had settled and you could barely see. The shops were closed and you had wandered into a section of the city with no streetlights. Thoughts of thieves and rapists entered your mind. You shivered. Why, oh why, were you risking your life to find this stupid country?

_What would he be doing this whole time? _you wondered, still running through London. You paused to take a breath and think clearly. _What could still be open around this time…?_

_ A bar?_

That seemed to be it. You knew that England drank when he was upset, thanks to China's complaints about him whenever he came back from a meeting with his "friends". The Brit was probably in a bar right now, drinking his troubles away with beer.

_Great_, you thought grimly. _He's in a bar. Now only if I knew where the bars are here_…

Fortunately within half an hour you found a bar gleaming brightly down a street. As you ran over to go check it out, a man was thrown out by some big meaty hands.

"And stay out!" this man cried, and slammed the bar doors behind him.

Cautiously, you approached the man lying on the sidewalk. Whoever it was, he didn't seem to be in good shape. The male groaned and tried to stand up, but fell back down almost immediately. His head lolled to the side. When you got close enough, you realized it was England. Silently you chuckled to yourself. Just what kind of drunk was he, to get himself kicked out of a bar?

You walked closer England and kneeled down next to his body. "England?" you whispered.

The British nation cracked open an eye and looked in your direction, but due the amount of alcohol in him, he didn't recognize you at all.

"Well hullo pretty lady," he slurred, reaching up to touch your face. "Are ya gonna try and save me this fine evening?" England attempted to smile but failed.

You slapped his hand away, revolted. "Good grief England, it's me, [your name]." You snapped your fingers in front of his face. "Remember me? Or are you too drunk to even know where you live?"

"[Name]…?" A befuddled look overcame the British country's drunken face, but then he laughed. "That's impossible!" he said, still laughing, "[Name] hates me!"

You flinched at what he said. For some reason, what England was saying bothered you greatly, but you decided to ignore it. After all, it was true, wasn't it? As he kept on rambling you pulled him up to his feet and he stumbled on you. You crinkled your nose. He reeked of alcohol and helplessness. Hopefully the rain would wash it all away.

Since the wind had died down and it was only a slight breeze now, you deemed it safe to open the umbrella. You were relieved to find it was big enough to cover the both of you. You were about to pull England onward a loud sob came from him. Startled, you turned around to see him kneeling down before you, crying.

You stood there, unmoving, unsure of what to do. The only thing that came to your mind was how similar this situation was to what had taken place just a couple of months ago. You remember kneeling down in front of England next to an airport back in Beijing, crying your heart out and shouting that you hated him, hated him so much. He had stood there, immobile, just like you were doing now, until you had calmed down and your cries had turned to sniffles. It was raining back then as well, raining like it was now…

Both of you stayed in those positions for who knows how long in front of the bar, the rain still falling and the night getting darker. After a while, England calmed down and whispered, "Sorry," and got up, taking the umbrella from you and leading you the way home. Somehow he knew where to go, even in the darkness of the city.

When the two of you entered the house, England went over to one of his couches and plopped down, not caring that he was getting it wet. A few tears were still leaking down his face. You stood there for a few moments then went upstairs, preparing clean clothes for him and a warm bath. When you got back down again, you found England sleeping.

It was rather amazing how peaceful England looked right now. With his sopping wet hair, rosy cheeks from the cold and a not-angry-expression on his face, he actually looked rather…cute. Wait, what were you thinking? You shook your head furiously. You must be getting sick, having these strange thoughts. Banishing all thoughts about England being adorable, you walked over and tapped him on the shoulder. England stirred awake and looked at you with bleary eyes.

"I prepared a bath for you and some dry clothes," you whispered softly. Why were you being so gentle with him right now?

Lazily he nodded, and England slowly got up and walked up the stairs. You watched him ascend, making sure he didn't trip and fall. Any other time you would've been glad if that happened, maybe even celebrated if he managed to break a bone, but for some reason you wouldn't let that happen today. A warm feeling sat in your stomach, and it refused to go away.

You sighed and went to your room, after checking that he went into the bathroom safe and sound, changing out of your wet clothes for some dry ones. You climbed into bed and settled in, preparing to go to sleep after a long day, but unfortunately, sleep evaded you. You groaned and shifted around in the bed, but you still stayed awake. Frustrated, you punched your pillow. The stupid warm feeling in your stomach wouldn't go away! Were you sick? You certainly didn't feel like it. You buried your face into the silk pillow and sighed.

Thinking about it, you started displaying so much more emotion ever since England had entered your life. You used to be a quiet girl, solemn and stone-faced as Hong Kong. Hong Kong wasn't always emotionless though, you remembered. It was only after he returned from England he turned impassive. How ironic. You were becoming feisty and he became cold. It was absolutely absurd how things worked out, you thought, but the troubling thoughts soon drifted away and you finally fell into a deep sleep.

The sound of a loud sneeze woke you up the next morning. You shot up in bed. Soon sneeze after sneeze came and you hurried down the hall to England's room, opening the door without warning.

England was lying on his bed, face burning red and sneezing furiously. You mentally slapped a hand to your forehead. Of course this would happen.

You determined that the older nation had a fever and bustled about the house, preparing the proper medicine to take care of him and other things he might need. You had to force the medicine down him (it appeared that he disliked the cherry flavour) and feed him his breakfast. After cleaning up you went back up the stairs and sat by his bed, slightly out of order. Why did England have to be such a difficult patient?

An awkward silence took over the room, feeling like a heavy blanket suffocating them to death. Minutes passed like this and England had finally stopped sneezing and coughing, his breathing soft and his eyes rested closed. Then he asked, "Has the rain stopped yet?"

You were alarmed at the sudden question but answered, "Yes."

"That's good," he mumbled, turning over to face you. He opened his eyes half-way. "I don't really like rain."

This baffled you. "Why?" you asked. "Your country gets rain often. Shouldn't you like it?"

A small grin appeared on England's face, who was amused by your bewilderment. "I used to," he said, and then his grin slipped away. "But it was raining…the day he got his freedom…"

Once again the room slipped back into an awkward silence. You knew England was talking about America, who was his most precious country that he raised. You cleared your throat and, with the lack of anything better to say, replied, "Oh…"

"Yeah…"

More silence.

"That's not the only time…that day I met [name], it was raining too…" he muttered. He seemed to have forgotten you were there. Your eye twitched. Was he implying that it was terrible to meet you?

England continued, "…and [name] was crying…saying she hated me…"

Oh.

The sick nation was asleep now, his breathing soft and fever down. You let yourself smile and brushed away some stray strands of his blond hair. Blushing, you leaned down and whispered, "I don't hate you."

You stayed for a few more minutes then left. As you walked down the hallway you couldn't help but flush again, replaying your words over and over in your mind. Heck, you might as well have told him you loved him. You bounded down the stairs to make lunch, and you couldn't help but smile again.

Back in England's room, the British nation was covering his eyes with one hand. His face was crimson, and not just because of his fever. Unknown to you, England was still awake when you confessed that you didn't hate him and when you exited his bedroom, the male country started to blush. What was he doing, feeling this way? He must be crazy; he had to be, thought England. It was all because of his fever that he was thinking like this, yes that must be it. Even so, England found himself glad to hear that you didn't hate him.

He continued to blush anyway.

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><p><strong>AN: **I wasn't planning to write a follow-up, but I have a feeling I do better with second-person based stories. So I tested it out. I didn't have any bright story ideas though, so I used this...If you read the previous story,** I said I had a whole story for it with romance between you and England but that I was just going to leave it as when you first met him. Obviously I lied.** I couldn't think of anything else to test it with.

Now that I think of it, I forgot to mention in _And Tears Fell Down From the Sky_ that **you grew almost as quickly as America did**, so you are about the same human age as America, even if you are a century older than him. I think you're a century older. Man, I really don't remember. Or care. Also, I'm _pretty_ sure it was raining in the anime during the Revolutionary War. I'm not sure.

By the way, nations get sick when their economies are down or something. Yeah, so...I would have a fake event for that, but once again, I'm not going to post it because it's too long. So hell with canon! YAY.

Uhm, what else do I need to say...**if you need to understand what's happening better, you should read _And Tears Fell Down From the Sky_**. Yup. Shameless advertising right there. If you do read it, may you also send a review? That would be greatly appreciated. :)

Hm. More romance in this one. I feel that I did a bad job writing it though. And gosh, the ending! D: OTL

Anyway, **reviews are appreciated!**


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